


The Spaces in Between

by ideal_girl (trainwreckdress)



Series: The Albion Rooms [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF, Real Person Fiction, The Libertines
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-06
Updated: 2004-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:42:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainwreckdress/pseuds/ideal_girl





	The Spaces in Between

He's drunk enough to feel his fingers, but he lost his lips somewhere back at the last pub, all brightly colored drinks and jingle-jangle of guitars.

"Don't get arrested," Lexi had told him, and Charlie had just smirked, said something about Elijah not knowing trouble if it bit him on the ass.

Elijah had just smiled, down-turned eyes, took it good-naturedly until most people had cleared out, then reached out and took Charlie's hand, shook it and cocked his wrist around and told him if he did that again he'd end up with a handful of broken fingers, alright then?

*

So, he's drunk, yeah, really drunk, but he's lost his cigarettes, so he's asked the two guys sitting at the bar, the ones leaning into each other, quiet words and small smiles, hats askew and jeans dirty and drawn through. The dark-haired one, he offers over two filterless European jobbers, eyes never leaving his hands until they trail back up to the other man's face.

Elijah almost stops, starts, cigarette between his fingers and hands hovering over knees that aren't his own. But he doesn't, just steals a look up, smiles and says, "ta very much for the smoke, mates."

*

This bar's alright, people everywhere dancing to the band playing in the back, but now it's getting crowded, kids pouring in from the street, red cheeks and wide-open eyes, searching for something Elijah can't see.

His two cigarettes are gone, and so are the two guys, so he asks the bartender for a pack, gets it for a couple of quid more than he's used to. He lights up and the room stops, spins, and realigns itself with claps and the lick of electric guitar.

"It's the spaces in between, y'know?" someone says and Elijah cranes his neck to see.

*

Still drunk, but now the booze is joined by adrenaline as Elijah hears what those two are say-singing, their hands making music with twists of wrists and flicks of fingers, offering up themselves to the crowd and to each other, a world the size of a pub watching.

Dancing before he knows it, pressed in with the rest, hard to breathe, but he's cheering and shouting, and he thinks, maybe, just maybe, this is what it's all about, the joy in pain and the way people look at each other when they really mean it, or at least want to.

*

Elijah leaves when the band does, watches as they stumble down the street, a clump of four, all arms and legs and boxy jackets and open mouths. The two in the middle are pressed up against each other, hands on hips, bodies making a single silhouettes on the pavement.

His fingers feel numb, but he's still got a hold of them, enough to dial unfamiliar numbers and press his cell phone up to his ear. A swipe of his tongue and his lips are back, and that's good, because Dom is answering the phone and Elijah wants to say hello.


End file.
